River's Edge (4 page)

M
organ was quiet as they drove home.

“You okay, babe?” Jonathan asked.

She leaned her head back on the headrest. “Yeah.”

“You were thinking about the baby, weren’t you?”

She closed her eyes, hoping they’d look less haunted. “I was actually wondering if God still answers my prayers. Will he hear my prayers for Lisa, when he didn’t hear my prayers for the baby?”

Silence fell between them. She was glad he didn’t spout out some pat answer about how God heard but had a different plan. Even if it was true, she didn’t want to hear it right now.

“Is it ever going to happen, Jonathan?”

“Of course it is.” His voice sounded as weak and uncertain as hers.

She leaned her head against the window. “I’m not so sure. It took so long to get pregnant, and now this. There’s got to be something wrong.” She looked back at him.
“Jonathan, I think it’s time for us to make an appointment at the fertility clinic.”

He pulled into the driveway and cut off the engine but made no effort to get out of the car. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? It’s only been a little over a year.”

“If it’s too soon, they’ll tell us. Meanwhile, I just want some tests. I want to know if there’s something wrong that can be fixed before much more time passes.”

“You’ve got plenty of time left on your biological clock, Morgan. You’re only twenty-nine.”

“But I want a big family, and I don’t understand why I can’t get pregnant when teenagers do after one indiscretion. I need to know what’s wrong with me.”

He looked out the window for a long moment, staring at the wax myrtles along the driveway, their branches reaching up to the sky. Blair’s car sat in the driveway. Was Sadie filling her in on the miscarriage? She hoped not.

“It could be me, honey.” His words came out raspy, uncertain.

She shook her head. “You know that’s not true. I was pregnant. I’m the one who lost the baby.”

“But the bottom line is, something’s going wrong with
us
. And if you feel like you need to go to the fertility clinic, I’m with you.”

She had expected a fight. “Are you sure, Jonathan?”

“Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“All the reasons you’ve said before. It seems like once we start on this cycle, it’s hard to stop.”

“It’s worth a try, baby. Just one appointment. We can find out what our options are. Then we can decide if we want to go on.” He squeezed her hand. “That okay?”

She wished the decision had made her feel better. It was simply a step, not the cure. “Yeah.” She looked up at the porch. Her big ferns spilled over their hanging pots, cascading almost to the floor, in need of water. She suddenly felt too tired to tend to them. “Guess it’s time to tell my sister what happened yesterday.”

Jonathan looked as though he dreaded that as much as she did.

They went in and found Blair in the kitchen with Sadie and Caleb. The baby was in his high chair, shoving dry Cheerios into his mouth as he banged his spoon on the tray.

Blair was munching on a carrot and glanced at the Braves T-shirt Jonathan wore. “You’re not wearing that to the debate, are you? Don’t you realize this is the most important day of your political life, Jonathan?”

He headed for the phone. “There’s not going to be a debate today, Blair.”

She caught her breath and looked at her sister. “Because of Lisa Jackson?”

Morgan nodded. “How did you know?”

“I heard about it at Cricket’s. Sadie said you’d gone over there. Is this for real?”

Morgan went to the coffee pot. It was still warm, so she poured a cup. “She’s still missing. Ben’s crazy with worry.”

“You’re sure it’s not just some trumped up attempt to get attention?”

“Yes,” Morgan said. “If you’d seen him, you wouldn’t even ask. Besides, Lisa’s not a publicity hound. She wouldn’t have gone along with a scheme like that.”

“She would if he tied her up and locked her in a room.”

Morgan turned back to her sister and shot her a withering look. “That’s not funny, Blair.”

Blair looked as if she’d been unfairly judged. “Hey, I’m just saying people will do strange things for politics.”

“This is not political,” Morgan said.

Jonathan got off the phone and came out of the office. “Well, there’s no way to completely call this off without going to the rally and making an announcement there. We’re going to delay it a week, possibly two, depending on the availability of the Pier.”

“Darn.” Blair threw down her carrot. “I really hate that. I was all set for you to pull ahead in the race today.” She looked at Sadie, who sat next to Caleb and was staring at Morgan as if she
expected her to burst into tears. “Sadie, I guess you and I can chase down the Lisa story today. See if we can find out anything.”

Sadie had worked briefly for the previous owner of the paper, so Blair had hired her to help out after school and on weekends. She had proved to be a valuable employee. But Sadie looked as if something was troubling her.

“I was thinking…since the rally’s off, do you think I could go to Atlanta and see my mom? I haven’t seen her in about a month. We’ve been so busy, and she doesn’t get that many visitors. It always cheers her up when I come.”

Blair shrugged. “I can do without you. The paper doesn’t even come out until Tuesday. I’m sure I can cover everything by myself today.”

Morgan smiled at the girl. “You can take my car, honey. Give her a kiss from Caleb.”

A grin broke out on Sadie’s face, and Morgan realized how much the teen still missed her mother. Saturdays were the only days that Sadie could go visit. The fact that it was a six-hour round-trip made it prohibitive on any other day.

“Before you leave, Sadie, I need to talk to Blair upstairs. Can you watch Caleb for a few minutes?”

Sadie gave her a knowing look. “Sure. Come on, Caleb. Come with me while I get ready to go see Mommy.” Caleb toddled off, holding Sadie’s hand.

Blair got up and studied Morgan’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Let’s go talk.” Morgan was quiet as she led her sister up the stairs. She could hear Karen—one of the home’s residents—changing her baby’s diaper in her room, talking to the seven-week-old infant in a soft, sweet voice. She had turned out to be a devoted mother to Emory—not something Morgan would have expected from a former crack addict.

Morgan led Blair into their parents’ old room. Though they had died months ago, Morgan had left their room just as it was. The scents in the pillows and the curtains had long ago faded, but the room still filled them both with comfort when the grief got a foothold.

Morgan sank onto the bed.

“Sis, are you all right?” Blair whispered.

Morgan pressed the corners of her eyes, trying hard not to cry. “I had a miscarriage yesterday.”

It took a moment for the words to hit full force. “A miscarriage? You were pregnant?”

“I’d only found out the day before. We were going to announce it yesterday.”

“Oh, honey.” Blair sat down on the bed next to her and pulled her into her arms. “I am so sorry.”

Morgan laid her head on Blair’s shoulder. “I tried to call you several times yesterday, but I never got you.”

“Why didn’t you leave a message? I would have called back.”

“I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t decide whether I really wanted to talk or not. Oh, Blair, I really wanted to be pregnant.”

“I know you did.” Blair grabbed a Kleenex box from the nightstand and handed one to Morgan, then wadded one up for herself. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s nothing
to
say. It just is.”

“At least you know you
can
get pregnant now.”

Morgan wished Blair hadn’t said that. “What good is it to be able to fertilize an egg and have it implant into your uterus if you can’t make it hold on? Lisa’s had
four
miscarriages. She’s been trying for thirteen years. What if I’m going to be like that?”

“You’re not, okay? It’s nothing like that.”

Morgan blew her nose. “I don’t know, Blair. I have a bad feeling.”

“Well, don’t.” Her voice held a determined certainty. “You’re perfectly fine.”

“I miss Mama.” Morgan’s voice broke off, and Blair pulled her back into her arms and let go of her own emotions. “I miss her so much.”

“Me too,” Blair whispered. “She would know what to say. She wouldn’t spout off like I do, without a thought.”

“Words aren’t the answer,” Morgan told her. “But she would pray. Mama was the world’s best prayer warrior.”

“Now, that I can do,” Blair whispered.

M
organ recognized the angry voice at the front door as she and Blair came downstairs.

“I heard you’re planning to call off the debate. Who do you think you are, making that decision without even asking me?”

Morgan looked at Blair.

“Sam Sullivan,” they said at the same time.

Sam was the third candidate in the mayoral race—the one who wrote the book on cut-throat campaigning. Morgan might have known he wouldn’t take the cancellation well.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and joined Jonathan at the door.

“Lisa Jackson is missing,” he was saying. “Under the circumstances, we could hardly have gone on with it.”

“You and me could have done it.” The tips of Sam’s ears turned pink. “If somebody can’t show up, that’s his tough luck. But this was supposed to go off. We have advertisements up all over town—
paid
advertisements, I
might add. It ain’t right to call it off without consulting everybody involved.”

Jonathan shook his head. “We can put it off, Sam. It won’t hurt a thing.”

Sam looked like a good-ole-boy version of Rodney Dangerfield, with his flattop and his don’t-get-no-respect attitude. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you, Jonathan? Throwing us off guard like this when we were all prepared. You know darn well that Ben Jackson’ll do anything for publicity, and this is the biggest stunt he’s pulled yet.”

“I thought of that,” Jonathan said, “but I really don’t believe that’s what’s happening here. I was with him this morning.”

“I knew it!” Sam threw his hands up. “So you two are in cahoots then. I might have known. And if you don’t think I’m gonna let this be known to every reporter in the area—”

“Milk it for all it’s worth,” Jonathan said. “Knock yourself out. If you want to look like a man who doesn’t have an ounce of compassion, go for it.”

“I have a good mind to hold that rally anyway. To stand up there by myself and take advantage of the opportunity.”

“Like I said, knock yourself out.” Jonathan swung the storm door open to let Sam out. “Nice of you to drop by, Sam. Sorry you have to leave so soon.”

Sam spotted Morgan and Blair standing in the doorway. “Blair Owens, you better write about this in that paper of yours! Tell ’em how he talked to me. You can’t play favorites.”

Blair crossed her arms. “I’m on it, Sam.”

He marched out the door, grumbling something about derailing this election and suing for the advertisement money. Jonathan let the door bounce shut behind him.

Blair chuckled. “That man is like a caricature of himself. Every reporter’s dream.”

Jonathan ground his teeth together. “Coming into my house and chewing
me
out. He can have at it. I hope he does prance down to the Pier and show his true colors.”

“Are you going to show up and make the announcement?”

“You bet I am,” Jonathan said. “And if Sam tries to stand in my way, the crowd will see what he’s made of.”

T
he drive to the prison, which was located one hour east of Atlanta, seemed farther every time Sadie made the trip. She passed the time listening to music, but by the time she got there she dreaded having to drive home again.

She went through the degrading hoops necessary for security—emptying her pockets, removing her shoes, enduring a search that left her feeling humiliated—then took her place at one of the visiting booths as she waited for them to get her mother. She hadn’t been able to hug her mother in a year, since her arrest and felony conviction on drug charges. A panel of smudged glass separated them, and they had to talk via the telephones that hung on either side of the glass.

The atmosphere was not conducive to a relaxing visit. Every conversation in the room could be overheard. The glass partition didn’t go to the ceiling, only high enough to prevent contact. Angry voices and expletives flew around her. She sat with rigid muscles, as if ready to defend herself from sudden assault.

In the booth next to her, a man cursed into the phone, and she could hear the inmate’s angry reaction as she hit the glass with her fists, causing Sadie’s own booth to jerk. The woman shrieked at her visitor, and for a moment Sadie thought the inmate might come over the partition and latch onto his neck.

Sadie fought the urge to run out. If she did, her mother would be crushed.

She watched through the glass as two guards came to quiet the inmate. The woman swung at one of them, and in an instant, they had wrestled her to the door, no doubt escorting her to lockdown where she would feed her rage.

“Leave her alone!” Her visitor was on his feet, shouting. “She didn’t do nothin’. I got the right to visit my wife!” He kicked his chair, and it fell against Sadie. She sprang up and tried to move away.

Another guard pushed her aside and escorted the rabid husband out. Sadie watched until he was gone, afraid he would run back in and wreak more havoc. She felt small and fragile—and close to tears—as she sat back down to wait for her mother.

Other conversations around her were thankfully less heated. A baby cried at one of the booths, and a two-year-old had been set free to run around barefoot on the dirty floor.

There was no air-conditioning, and the room was approaching eighty degrees. The heat did nothing to help the smell of backed-up sewage in the bathroom or the heavy scent of body odor on the stagnant air.

The door opened, and Sadie saw Sheila step in and look from window to window. When she saw Sadie, her face lit up. That look made all of this worth it.

Sheila grabbed the phone and sat down. “Hey, baby—” she touched the glass—“I thought you couldn’t come today.”

Sadie put her hand against the glass. Her side was sticky. “My plans changed at the last minute. How are you?”

Her mother looked good, in spite of the brown jumpsuit she’d worn every day of her incarceration. Her hair was pulled up in a pony tail, making her look younger than thirty-two. Sadie knew most people thought they were sisters, rather than mother
and daughter. Sadie was the result of a teen pregnancy, and her upbringing bore that out.

“How’s Caleb?” her mother asked.

Sadie pulled the current pictures out of her pocket and pressed them against the glass. “I took this one earlier this week. Look how curly his hair’s gotten. He’s always real busy and talks a lot. You should hear him. He’s a real scream.”

Her mother’s head tilted at the sight of the pictures, and she got tears in her eyes. “I wish you could bring him to see me.”

“It would be too hard, Mom. The ride is too long. He’d never be able to stay in his car seat that long. And when we got here, you wouldn’t even be able to hold him.”

Sheila wiped a tear. “Maybe we could get special permission. Some of the girls here have been able to do that. One of my cell mates had a baby right here in jail two months ago. They took it from her the next day, but they let her hold her baby sometimes when her mother brings her. I could get the chaplain to work it out for me. They listen to him.”

Sadie sighed. She couldn’t imagine subjecting her little brother to this place. “We’ll see, Mom. Maybe we can work it out sometime. But I’ll leave you these pictures.”

“Did you get my letter yet? About my lawyer?”

Sadie shook her head. “When did you send it?”

“Two days ago. You probably would have gotten it today.” That smile came back to Sheila’s face. “Baby, I’m not getting my hopes up or anything, and I don’t want you to either, but I found out that the legislature just passed a law to help overcrowding in the prisons. For nonviolent crimes, they’re letting people out after serving only twenty percent of their sentence. I’m not sure whether my conviction falls within the right timeline. I may qualify and I may not. My public defender is looking into it.”

Sadie almost jumped out of her seat. “You mean you could get out?”

“It’s possible. I have four more years. If I fall under the twenty percent rule, I could get out now. But don’t get your hopes up, baby. It may not work out. Hardly anything ever does.”

Sadie’s heart was pounding. “Mom, that’s great! What if it
does
work out? You could be free.”

Sheila leaned in to the window and giggled. “Wouldn’t that be a miracle?”

“God’s given us miracles before, Mom.”

Sheila’s eyes grew misty again. “Yeah, he has.”

“Oh, Mom, you would love Cape Refuge. It’s so beautiful. Probably the most beautiful place on earth. At least, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

Sheila paused for a moment. “Baby, I don’t know if I want to come to Cape Refuge.”

Sadie’s heart deflated. “Why not? You don’t want to go back to where we were before.”

“Tell you what. We’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Sadie thought about that statement as she drove back to Cape Refuge. She couldn’t consider the thought that her mother might choose to go back to Atlanta if she was released early. Somehow, she had to talk her into coming to Cape Refuge and starting a new life.

There simply was no other option.

She prayed that God would have mercy on her mother and give her this second chance that no one had expected. Then she imagined Sheila walking along the beach with her, barefoot in the sand, swinging little Caleb between them, and splashing his feet in the water. She pictured her being serene and happy, like Morgan, taking care of her family and watching over them.

It was a picture far removed from the reality she had known before her mother went to jail, but she hadn’t given up on the hope that she could change.

“Please let it happen, Lord,” she prayed as she drove. “Change Mom’s heart, and give her a new start.”